


Cricket Whites.

by BarPurple



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Cricket, Fluff, Gen, Golf, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regeneration changes more than just his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cricket Whites.

They were sat in the stands watching the match. Well, Clara was trying to watch the match; the Doctor was fidgeting and huffing like a stroppy two year old. Clara finally snapped after a dramatic sigh and yet another rearranging of those spindly limbs.

“What is the matter with you? I though you said you liked cricket?”

“I did. I used to love playing cricket. Are you sure this is cricket?”

Clara pinched the bridge of her nose and bit her tongue to hold back a sigh of her own.

“Yes Doctor this is definitely cricket.”

For a blissful three minutes the Doctor was still and looked to be intently watching the game. Clara should have known better than to relax, but she did and that was why the bony elbow to her ribs came as such a surprise.

“Ow!”

“I don’t like this game anymore. Regeneration changes everything; always takes me a while to adjust. After all I’m Scottish now. What if I like golf?”

Clara bit her lip again, this time to suppress a giggle. She tried to compose herself and offer something sensible to this frankly bizarre conversation.

“You know what Mark Twain said about golf? That it’s the ruination of a good walk.”

“Sounds familiar. Mark Twain? No, not getting it. . . what are you giggling about?”

“The idea of you wearing plus fours and a hideous jumper.”

The Doctor’s impressive new eyebrows danced as he too considered the image.

“No, that doesn’t sound like me. Maybe not golf then.”

They watched the match in an easy silence for a few minutes. Clara didn’t expect it to last; there was too much twitching restlessness about the Doctor, no matter what face he was wearing.

“Do you suppose there’s somewhere we can get a cup of tea?”

Clara stood up with a smile.

“Doctor, we’re at a cricket match in England. Somewhere to get tea is compulsory. Come on.”

**Author's Note:**

> A little fluff piece so I could try to write the new Doctor.


End file.
